


Morning Song

by 24parts



Category: South Park
Genre: Ficlet, High School, Hiking, M/M, Post-Canon, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/24parts/pseuds/24parts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Branches crack behind him. Stan holds his breath--</p><p>"Oh god." Craig is wheezing a little, but other than that, his voice betrays no emotion. "And this is what you dragged me all the way up here for."</p><p>-- and slowly, he breathes out a sigh. He should have expected that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Song

 

 

   Stan is on top of the world. For long seconds, he, at the peak, is the axis the Earth spins on.

   It's chilly up on the overlook. There's no railing to stop hikers toppling to their deaths down the steep decline on the other side, but the ground is flat enough and clear of foliage, and it feels safe. Stan stands at the precipice and looks; there's a lush and snowy forest down below, sprinkled with clumps of frail trees that have shed for the winter. A river spans as far as his vision lets him see, from one end to the other. It winds, ducking behind clusters of trees and coming around again. Clouds drift by at eye level.

   Branches crack behind him. Stan holds his breath--

   "Oh god." Craig is wheezing a little, but other than that, his voice betrays no particular emotion. "And this is what you dragged me all the way up here for."

   -- and slowly, he breathes out a sigh. He should have expected that.

   Just once, Stan would like to be able to step out from under that that storm cloud that seems to follow Craig everywhere, constantly lingering above him, waiting to rain. As soon as those words leave his lips, Craig is a great big black stain on Stan's mood, on this landscape; everything.

   "Can you lighten up for once?" he says, as emotionless as Craig. Two can play at that game, but his tone doesn't make it sound any nicer.

   He can imagine the look on Craig's face before he even turns around to see it. He refuses to give Craig that much, even; he just keeps looking ahead, trying to commit the grey, brittle branches and the sluggish river to memory because he knows from experience he'll miss the view as soon as he's back on the ground. The air is good in town but it's even better up here, and sometimes Stan thinks that when he breathes it in, that clean air takes up all the space in his body, pushes all of his bottled-up negativity and cynicism out with his exhales.

   Apparently the effect doesn't work on everyone.

   "It's seven thirty in the morning. We have been hiking for two hours. You made me sleep in your car last night. And now you're telling me how I should feel."

   Stan can tell -- like a sixth sense -- that Craig is fiddling with his phone as he delivers his monotonous complaints. There's not much of a signal up here, but Craig would still rather look at a cracked iPhone screen than something... Stan doesn't know, _pleasant_? He should have known Craig wouldn't be able to remove the stick from his ass for anything, no matter how much effort it took them to get up here and find that out.

   "I didn't make you do anything," Stan says, without turning around. He's determined to stare straight ahead. He will never forget this ice-blue sky, the pine scent, the bite of the cold. "You said you wanted to come." 

   When Craig speaks again, he's closer; walking up to stand almost beside Stan, but not quite, lingering just behind. "You said it would be an enjoyable and potentially life-changing experience." The storm cloud moves with him. Stan can feel it. "I'm pretty sure you lied to me."

   Stan has to turn his head, incredulous. He was right; Craig is more focused on his phone than the wide world around him. "You didn't even look at it?"

   "Yes I did." Craig spends about three seconds looking down at the river, and then turns to Stan, clearly unmoved. "See? I'm looking at it."

   "And?"

   "And, now I want to eat my sandwiches so I can go home and watch TV."  
    
   Stan tries not to look put out by the singularity of that sentence. He isn't sure exactly why Craig is deciding to act as though Stan is just a stranger he met up here on this hill, someone he'll never see again; as though Craig didn't make two sets of sandwiches, as though they didn't drag their asses up here together. They both know that Craig isn't so solitary. He hasn't slept alone in months. Their friends no longer roll their eyes when they show up to school together and then spend the rest of the day acting like they barely know each other. Craig turns down every girl who asks him out without giving any particular reason. Stan collects Craig's secrets like pennies in a jar and daydreams about cashing them in for real intimacy someday.

   Pointing any of these things out would ruin the whole morning, so all Stan says is, "You know, you could try harder."

   Craig's snort indicates that he wont, but it doesn't matter. Stan is already shrugging off his backpack; he's tempted to make Craig carry it back down the trail as a punishment, and he would if he didn't think it would cause him to keel over. Craig is so thin he looks emaciated, so thin Stan didn't think they'd ever make it this far, and carrying a backpack for two hours might snap him in half. And if he survived, and complained about it for the whole two hours, then _Stan_  might snap him in half.

   "What would it take to actually impress you?" Stan asks as he sets the bag down on the ground and starts rooting around for the container of food that Craig volunteered at the door last night, when Stan picked him up. "A double rainbow? I'm curious."

   "Maybe. The tuna mayo is mine," Craig adds, sounding more invested in getting the correct sandwiches than he has about anything all day.

   "Sure. Fine." Stan tosses the plastic-wrapped bundle at him and watches as he sits down on a nearby rock, carefully easing the plastic away from the gooey filling, completely unaffected by the beauty around him.

   There are birds singing still; the sunrise broke just as they left the car, and the calls have been leading them up the trail. Stan thinks about getting out his guide and trying to identify some of them, but he's hungry too, and even moreso when he digs further into the tupperware and discovers that Craig prepared peanut butter sandwiches for him. He'd been expecting something vindictive, maybe cucumber or sardines. Experimentally, Stan squeezes down on the bread, satisfied when peanut butter oozes out of the sides. He wasn't even skimpy with the filling.

   "What?" Craig asks. He's sitting there with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, held in both hands, watching Stan with narrowed eyes. "What's wrong with the food?"

   "Nothing." Stan smiles at him, which garners the exact response he expected; Craig stares at him for a moment longer, and then blinks, and then goes back to his sandwich without another word.

   In the end, Stan decides to eat standing up and looking out, appreciating the view for the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://myquantumtheory.tumblr.com/post/122334149088/30-day-fanfic-challenge) 30 day fanfic challenge, prompt 7: morning. 
> 
> when i was idly researching for this, i googled "pine colorado" to see whether pine trees grow there. what i got instead was some information about a small town called 'pine' and a snippet about the rhubarb festival they celebrate there once a year. it made my whole day.


End file.
